Page 66 of Sunrise By the Sea

‘Is that home?’

‘Oh no,’ said Marisa. ‘Britain’s home. But my family is Italian.’

‘You look Italian. Oh God, sorry, is that all right to say?’

‘It’s fine. Good, in fact,’ said Marisa. ‘I am. And I like looking like my family. I spent a lot of time there when I was little. Then last year . . . my grandfather died.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Polly, and she sounded genuinely sad, which was more than a lot of people had managed to muster. She knew for most people the loss of a grandparent was a sadness, not a tragedy.

But Polly had lost her own father too recently to not feel profoundly affected by anyone losing a loved one, and too soft-hearted not to mean it.

‘It’s been tough,’ said Marisa, and then had to catch herself. ‘Sorry.’

They were, after all, standing ankle deep in the ruins of all of Polly’s hopes and dreams.

‘It’s been rough for everyone,’ said Polly. ‘It’s been rough all over. We can’t keep bursting into tears. Well. Maybe we can. But we’ll be all right.’

And that was when Marisa made up her mind.

‘Let me help,’ she said. ‘Let me help get the bakery back on its feet.’

Polly looked concerned and excited all at once.

‘Do you mean it?’

‘I’ve lost half my job,’ said Marisa.

‘I mean, it would have to be a kind of . . . I mean, I could only pay you depending on how it went,’ said Polly.

Marisa smiled and, for the first time in a very long time, showed a flash of what looked suspiciously like confidence.

‘With these ovens?’ she said, dark eyes flashing. ‘I think we’ll be all right.’

And Polly found that, somehow, she wasn’t crying any more.

Chapter Forty-two

Andy’s power hose was in massive demand, so they first went at it, exhausted as they were, with big wire brushes, starting with the most important job: wrenching the main door back open. Once Huckle woke up, he brought up the twins in their wellingtons, warning them to stay outside in the back yard and play in the puddles rather than, as they were perfectly capable of doing, somehow falling on a concealed rusty nail and ending up airlifted to hospital for tetanus.

The door was ruined, that much was true. Completely done for. Huckle patiently set to work unscrewing its hinges to lift it out altogether. The forecast for the next few days – stretching into the next week, in fact – was irritatingly fine, which meant that they should be able to carry on cleaning up, which was good, but also that they would miss all the tourists, who were being told to walk over at their own risk until the cobbles were properly reset in the causeway, a frustratingly slow and delicate task, and nothing could drive over it either.

Archie’s mob were making up for the damage done to their fishing fleet by running the boat taxi service twice as often as usual, and bringing in large boxes of supplies, thankfully.

The bakery door unhooked, the water started to rush out, down back towards the sea, leaving behind a slow-moving pile of silt and dirt and crap.

‘At least there’s no carpet,’ said Huckle. ‘You should see Mrs Baillie’s place. All floral carpets, all done for, and it will stink for one hundred and forty-five years.’

It was true, the heavy flagstones were practical – no peeling laminate or floating tiles. But it was still dispiriting to see her beautiful glass units all scratched and cracked by the thrown-about water; the chiller cabinet for cakes completely destroyed. The cash register was safe, thankfully; she had unplugged it and put it up above with the knives and many of the dishes, so that although the units were a mess, her expensive equipment was safe.

They opened every window that could open, checked the electrics were okay now the power was back on and set the extractor going and Andy, bless him, once he’d finished in his chippy, kept the power-hose unit on his back and came straight over to theirs.

‘Ghostbusters!’ said Huckle drily as Andy lowered his visor and gave them a salute, but they were all incredibly pleased regardless.

They sluiced on and on until there was just a grim black patina on the floor, which would need hands and knees scrubbing. The girls looked at it in dismay. Huckle looked at the both of them and ordered them home for a nap. It would keep.

There was piano music coming from next door as Marisa finally let herself in, filthy and utterly exhausted. A melancholy, sad song. He must think she was still at Polly’s. For some reason she didn’t mind it so much.

She fell into the shower, and the water ran black off her. She left the hot water on for a very, very long time, leaning her head against the shower wall feeling a mixture of emotions – pride, sadness, excitement – all coursing through her at the same time.

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